


For Better Or Worse

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e22 Lucifer Rising, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-21
Updated: 2009-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: After everything, Sam needs to detox. Again.





	

The second time is both worse and better.

Worse, because he knows just how bad it's going to get, because he knows now exactly how wrong this whole thing has been and how stupid he was to get caught up in to start with, and because it's up to him this time - he's the one making the choice. He knows if he really, really pushes it, Bobby and Dean would let him go. He's got to find the willpower on his own to stick it out.

Better, because instead of just locking him away in the panic room, as if he's the family nutjob they're all ashamed of, Dean stays with him the whole time. He brings Sam water, holds him down when he seizures and tries to get him to snap out of it whenever Sam gets so caught up in hallucinations that he doesn't know what's real and what's not.

Thirty-eight hours in, Sam's not sure he's got anything left in him to keep going. Dean's slumped in a chair, dozing with his head tipped forward, and the door's been left temptingly ajar. He could just get up, creep out, find the nearest demon - wouldn't be too hard, not right now, with heaven and hell facing off against each other, building for the final battle. Sam can almost taste what it would be like, pouring down his throat and filling him up. Right now it feels like his every cell has withered down into a dried-up husk, but just one hit of blood would fill him up again, soothe the roaring noise in his head and stop the aching, tearing pain in his stomach, that feels as if his body is digesting itself in the absence of what he really needs.

He's so close to getting up and sneaking past Dean, already plotting to hotwire the Impala, when Dean shifts slightly and makes a tiny noise of discomfort and annoyance. Sam fixes his eyes hard on his brother and forces himself to remember the look on his face when Sam had turned away from him, left him lying on the floor in a mess of broken glass. This is the least he owes Dean, and he's damn well going to stick it out. He takes a deep breath, but can't stop the tiny whine of pain that comes with it, part of him letting out the frustration that he's not going to give in.

Dean's awake in a second, up and coming over to the bed. "You okay?" he asks, resting one hand on Sam's forehead. Sam's not sure if he really has a fever, but it damn well feels like it - his body hasn't been able to pick a temperature and stay with it for longer than ten minutes since they started this, flicking between hot flushes and chills that seem to start in Sam's bones. Dean's hand is warm and rough against his forehead - the only thing that feels right.

"Not really," he forces out.

Dean frowns. "You need anything?" he asks.

Sam shakes his head. "Need this to be fucking over already," he grumbles. Dean sits down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, but doesn't move his hand.

"Not much longer," he says, as if he's not lying through his teeth. Neither of them have any idea how long this will take.

"Yeah," gasps out Sam as a fresh wave of pain runs through him. "Just...just need..." He closes his eyes and focusses hard on the feel of Dean's hand.

"What?" asks Dean. "What do you need, Sammy?"

"Need you to stay with me," Sam hears himself say distantly, and he hates how weak that seems, but he's slipping down into a pain-filled, nightmare darkness, and he can't correct himself.

"Course, man," he hears Dean say. "Not going anywhere."

He clings hard to that as he loses everything else. He's going to make it through this, and when he does, Dean will be waiting for him.


End file.
